


wooing the human

by maraudersourwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Attempted Seduction, Dead Animals are Better than Flowers and Chocolate, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pining, Pining Derek, Werewolf Courting, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:22:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: This was ridiculous.Completely ridiculous.And it was completely his own fault.





	wooing the human

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen”. 
> 
> Unbeta’d.   
> Really messy and really silly.

 

 

This was ridiculous.

_Completely ridiculous._

And it was completely his own fault.

Derek rubbed his face with the palm of his hands, rough contact that made his skin go red. Hopefully the blush would go unnoticed. The tips of his calloused fingers digging a bit more than necessary on his skin. Maybe if the he ripped his own eyes out, this torture would end.

Maybe.

No, there was no fucking way in hell that Stiles would let him get out that easy.

“I have to say that I admire your determination but I think you should stop reading the Cosmo tips for emotionally constipated werewolves on how to woo your human,” there was a hint of laughter on his voice and that made Derek insides go wild with embarrasment. The funny feeling in the pit of his stomach not subsiding, “Care to explain this?” Stiles flailed at the space around him, almost dropping the batman mug with soon-to-be coffee. 

“It’s not my fault, the wolf in me feels the need to…,” he cleared his throat, feeling exposed, “fend for you. To show you I can…,” he moved his hands in thin air trying to convey the idea. God, he was spending too much time with Stiles. The tip of his ears and his cheeks feeling suddenly warmer than ever. He was spending almost all his free time near him. Stiles quirks one of his eyebrows, amused, an Derek groans, “… be safe with me”

In theory, Stiles was always safe with Derek. And viceversa. They saved each other’s back many times to function like a real life anchor. Fuck, he was Derek’s anchor since long ago. Each other had plain trust and faith on the fact that they were safe. He was able to understand that. With his logical adult mind, thank you very much. But the primal instinct inside him, that little thing that made him howl at the full moon or snap his head if he heard a small animal in the woods, that fucker didn’t quite understand it.

“You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen,” Derek took in sight Stiles posture. The way his shoulders stayed squared in place in a strong demeanor. But his face had this fucking huge grin. Pink plumb lips curled in that Chesire cat like gesture. And he wanted to  _kiss_  the fuck out of it. He growled low, looking away from the constellations formed on Stiles’ cheeks. His eyes landed on the poor bunny’s body up on the kitchen table. A small pool of blood under it. It was the third this week. And that without counting the many other small animals. And the deer. The now dead empty eyes staring at his very deep soul reminding him how social inept he was.

“I’m serious over here, Derek,” he heard the steps more than seen him move. He couldn’t quite muster the strenght to land his eyes on him now. He felt like a fucking puppy being reprimended. In fact, he felt like a damn puppy everytime he was near the sheriff’s son. His brows knit together trying to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t remember when he started being so soft. Fucking Stiles. Maybe he should shove him against a wall for old times sakes. And for his ego. Especially his ego.

A cold and bony hand splayed on his chest brought him back to reality. He looked down at it, then up to the other man’s face. Whiskey brown eyes welcomed him in the warmest way possible. Derek felt taken aback. Wasn’t he supposed to be kinda angry?

“You don’t need to woo me,” and he wanted to scream out of frustration. Because he knew he didn’t need to do it. But he  _wanted_  to. He even wanted to go as far as to date the fuck out of Stiles and form a future with him. And that wasn’t instinct. Those were feelings. Deep and rooted on his soul feelings. He was  _doomed_. But the funniest thing was that he couldn’t care less. Because when those brown eyes full of life looked back at him, everything made sense. As chiché’d as that sounds, all the bad things and thoughts just banished. And the only thing that cared was his flailing and awkward persona. Like right now. Why was he looking at him? Oh, right, the wooing thing. He should say something.

Or he should have.

Because now there was a mouth. On his mouth. Kissing him. Like really kissing him.

Derek blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The smell of anxiety and regret hitted his nosetrils and that snapped him into reality. One of his hands found place on the base of Stiles’ neck, the other on his lower back. He started a more demanding kiss, trying to put into words what he couldn’t say out loud. The  _mine_  and  _want_  that his mind repeated. The _I-think-I-love-you_  that his heart singed. The air starting to smel like happiness and arousal and  _them_  mixed togheter. He growled into the kiss. A happy growl. An arousal growl. Not the  _I’m-gonna-rip-your-throat-out_  kinda. But Stiles must have undertood, ‘cause he suddenly was more into his space than before. Long arms finding place around his neck. Derek’s back hitted the wall and he didn’t know when they started to walk backwards. Or fall into it, for all he knew. His front was a line of heat aligned with Stiles’ body. Chest, hips and legs touching. He hummed into the kiss now, content. Fully content.

When they broke for air, his eyes avidly looked at the face in front of him. Pink lips swollen with bites and the strenght of the kiss. Cheeks and neck flushed bright red. The sight of beard burn against creamy pale skin. One of his hands cupped the side of Stiles’ face, tracing his moles. His chest felt fully open and it didn’t scare anymore. Energy flowing in him in way that he couldn’t quite describe. This was new. This was different. This was _them_. He wanted to howl, his instinct satisfied wholly.

Stiles smiled in what seemed to be pure mischief. Derek was taken aback again, suddenly alert, “You know that I was into you all this time, right?” Derek knit his brows together again at that piece of information. No, he didn’t know Stiles was into him. All that time. God, so many wasted time. Derek had convinced himself that his feelings were unrequited. That’s why he caved into the wooing thing. Into his primal side that pretty much convinced him that dead animals were better than flowers and chocolates. Now that he thought about that, it was kinda obvious. But he wasn’t going to tell shit. No sir, he wanted to live that down. His face must have showed his inner dialogue because Stiles trew his head back in a clean laugh.

Leave it to him to break the moment.

The desire to nuzzle that splattered neck growing on his chest. He went for a bite instead. Hard.  A very loud “ _ow!_ ” and a couple of slaps and flailing arms got them back to the typical banter and bickering. But the energy was different. More lightly. Less guarded. And if the looks that Stiles send him were something, more loving too. He felt himself swell with pride, purring low on the back of his throat. He felt happy. He felt complete. He felt _ **love**_.

_Wooing the human was a success._


End file.
